Broken Parts of a Whole
by adhDrabbles
Summary: in which Clint and Natasha find that the sum of their broken parts make one perfect whole. rated M for lemony goodness
1. Chapter 1

**Hello my sweet buns! My but it's been awhile! :D i blame my lovely friend, our lives have pretty much been consumed with rp'ing lately and I have wanted to edit and post our threads for many moons, but... Writing new stuff is so fun and distracting rofl XD **

**BUT a wonderful thing happened! Our fantabulous friend offered to edit our threads for us, so now I can post it for you all to (hopefully) enjoy! :D Thanks for reading/reviewing!**

Everything had been going according to plan.

Clint watched from a distance as usual, perched up on the ledge of the building across the way. He cleared out at least half a dozen guys surrounding the building she was in. The Black Widow had woven her web as always, her prey tangling themselves more inextricably without even realizing it. She stood battered and bloodied with her hands shackled together above her head, but what were a few bumps and cuts if it meant she was getting all the information she needed and more from these morons? The Russian arms dealer, who had once been one of her best 'clients', struck her across the face again.

Tucking his bow on his back, Clint ran to the edge, leaping and grabbing hold of the railing of the fire escape. The archer hoisted himself upward to the floor, hoping to God that this freaking window was unlocked. To his surprise, it was. He ducked through the opening once he yanked it open, smiling to himself. This was so easy, it was almost pathetic. He pulled his bow around his shoulder and jogged down a darkened hallway, quickly drawing an arrow, then another as he killed two more men.

"You think you can just disappear on me for months and not pay a price, you prissy little bitch? Erik has you in his pocket now, doesn't he? What? Does he pay better? Does he give you bigger jobs?" Marek sneered. Natasha just smirked; so it was Erik Borgov that was taking over all of her former boss's storehouses.

"Well, he certainly had bigger things to offer me…" Natasha quipped, looking pointedly down between Marek's legs and quirking her eyebrows. Marek snarled like an enraged animal and stormed over to a workbench, picking up a large serrated knife.

Barton had managed to make his way high up into the rafters of the building, looking down at Natasha as she worked. His muscles tensed with anger and frustration as their conversation went on. Marek picked up his weapon of choice and stepped closer to the redheaded agent. Clint crept in the shadows as he drew another arrow, hearing only the sound of his own steady heart beat as he lifted his bow and pulled back on its tightened string.

"You want to be stuck with something big do you? You fucking whore!" Marek rushed her and just as he reared his arm back to attack and Natasha readied to counter, the man gurgled and spun hitting the concrete floor of the warehouse hard, a black arrow through his throat. The spy's eyes widened with alarm and she quickly yanked her wrists out of the cuffs she had unlocked but held closed through the whole interrogation for show.

"Dammit Barton, I had him! Get the hell out of here now, Marek always rigged his places to blow if anything went sideways!" Natasha swore into her com as she rolled to avoid the advance of one of Marek's goons. Five of them were closing in on her while two others looked around in the rafters to spot their employer's killer. She saw one of them push a panic button and she cursed again in Russian.

Two men began searching the rafters for the source of the arrow. They spotted him and opened fire. A bullet grazed Barton's shoulder as he ducked down. The archer's breath was coming fast now as he heard the sound of an alarm ringing in his ears, or was that from the gun fire? Both he thought. He couldn't tell for sure everything happened so fast, he should have thought this one through. He was trapped in his position and he knew this place was about to blow. "Nat, you've gotta get out. I'll cover you till you reach the door!" he suggested, wanting to guarantee that at least one of them got out alive.

Natasha swept the feet out from under the man closest to her, grabbing his face on his way down using his momentum to aid her own force. His head bounced off the concrete when he hit the floor. She grabbed the Glock out of his hand and shot the next two coming at her, but not before one of them fired a round she couldn't dodge. The bullet went through her side and she hissed through her teeth, pushing down the pain for the moment.

"You really think I would just leave you behind after four months of putting up with your preaching about 'being part of a team' and not doing everything on my own anymore?" Natasha berated her partner, but there was a tight grin in her voice. She could tell Barton was pinned down high up in the rafters of the warehouse. As Natasha raised her arm to shoot one of the men shooting at Clint, her ankle was suddenly yanked out from under her by one of the men she thought she had put down.

Clint heard the Black Widow's reply come in over his com again and he rolled his eyes. The archer had been cornered high up in his position and his only option was to jump and hope for the best. He leapt down from the rafters, tucking and rolling to avoid one man's aim. Rising to his feet quickly and without looking, Clint fired an arrow at his enemy, hitting him directly in the throat. The man choked and gurgled, gasping desperately for breath; his knees collapsed beneath him and he hit the concrete hard. The archer knew he had to move, and fast. A plan? He didn't have one.

Hitting the floor, Natasha bent back and shot her attacker square in the face, making sure he was really dead this time. She arched back to shoot at the others again, but it was too late. The east wall of the warehouse erupted with billowing flame and a chorus of deafening explosions. She covered her head and bits of flaming debris bounced off of her. The force of the blast combined with the blood loss of from her wound was making her senses of sight and hearing cut in and out.

She looked back up to the corner Clint was trapped in. The corner he _used_ to be trapped in. Now that end of the warehouse was nothing but a fiery hole. Her insides clenched and her blood froze. There couldn't possibly be anything left of the archer after that.

One of Marek's men had survived the explosion and hauled himself to his knee, aiming his gun at her when he saw she was still alive. She simply watched it happen. Natasha had gone completely numb. What did it matter if he shot her now? She was going to bleed out from her wound soon anyway, and besides that the only light she'd ever managed to find in her dark life had just been snuffed out. Natasha's vision swam and faded to black, and she welcomed the abyss.

* * *

Clint ran as quickly as his feet would carry him, hearing the base of the explosion and the vibration beneath him. _Shit,_ he thought just as he felt the painfully hot wall of flames erupt behind him. The explosion knocked him forward, his face skidding against the concrete.

The agent managed to maneuver himself forward and struggle to his feet. He raised his hand to wipe the blood trickling down from his brow that had been split open from the fall, wincing as he stretched the burnt skin of his shoulder. He could only hope it wasn't as bad as it felt.

He ran towards the direction of his redheaded partner, seeing her lying on the floor as he rounded the corner. One of Marek's men had a gun aimed straight at her head but she didn't seem to respond to the danger, slowly slipping away into the darkness.

Clint raised his retractable bow yet again, drawing an arrow from the quiver on his back and silently hooking it onto the bow string. He stepped behind the man, standing tall above him, "If you're trying to kill me…" he began, his voice harsh and completely unsympathetic for the frightened and injured man before him.

The guy turned aiming at the archer now, in shock that he survived the explosion. Clint pulled back, firing the arrow through the eye socket of guy who'd been aiming at The Widow previously, "…You're gonna have to do a hell of a lot better than that." he finished, lowering his bow and tossing it over his shoulder, ignoring any pain he felt as he gathered Natasha in his arms. "Come on - Stay with me. My partners aren't allowed to die. It's my only rule." he panted and chuckled half-heartedly as he carried her bridal style out of the burning warehouse.

She'd lost a lot of blood but he was hopeful that if he got her to the nearby SHIELD base fast enough, Natasha would survive. He half expected his partner, as stubborn as she could sometimes be, to wake up and yell at him in a mix of Russian and English, telling him how stupid he was and make some comment about how he was treating her like a kid or something and pushing him away from her, storming off and out of the building, hiding her pain. But she never woke and Clint never expected that he'd actually miss the sound of the redhead's nagging voice.


	2. Chapter 2

**hello my sweet buns! hope you enjoy part 2 of our clintasha rp! :D thanks for reading!**

The first thing to greet Natasha as she struggled back to consciousness was pain.

Everything hurt. Her cracked ribs, her stiff joints, her bruised jaw and split lip, most of all the gunshot wound in her side. The spy was well acquainted with pain; really it was her oldest and most honest friend. But this time it was different.

The 'training' she had received in the Red Room made physical pain relatively easy to overcome, she could push it down in a box and keep it for later when the heat was off. But this… This heart wrenching, mind-fracturing pain gnawing at her insides was wholly alien to Natasha Romanov, the merciless Black Widow. He was dead. He was dead and it was her fault. The first person that had reached out to her, who had seen past her mask and believed there was more to her than just the monster she had allowed herself to be to survive. The universe certainly had a cruel way of reminding her never to trust, never to open herself up like she had.

A sound tugged at her half-awake senses, cutting through her sorrow and turning her insides cold with fear. All this pain – that meant she was _alive_. Alive, alone and at the mercy of who the hell knew. Natasha's blue eyes cracked open and a fuzzy image of a woman in a white coat floated in her peripheral vision, she was getting ready to stick a syringe into an IV that was hooked up to her arm…

The Widow's survival instincts kicked in, a surge of adrenaline sharpening her vision and tightening her muscles. Thankfully wasn't strapped down - she lashed out from the bed and kneed the woman in the stomach, stopping her before she could pump whatever poison lay within into the tube. The woman smacked a red button on the wall triggering a loud alarm and then tried to wrestle Natasha to back to the bed. The spy stuck the syringe into her chest, pushing down the plunger. Her assailant crumpled to the floor immediately, confirming the spy's suspicions that whoever had brought her here from the warehouse had only hostile intentions for her.

Natasha stumbled out of the room in a fog of pain and whatever drugs they had already used on her, leaning heavily on the wall and gritting her teeth to keep from crying out from the pain lancing through her abdomen. She clutched the empty syringe in one hand, the only weapon she had. Because of the alarm the lights had been turned off and switched to dim yellowy emergency bulbs. At least that what she thought, maybe her vision just wasn't what it should be. The spy was beyond caring where she was or who got in her way. She had nothing to live for and nothing to lose, but she refused to just die on that medical bed like a dog being put down by a faceless enemy.

The redhead shambled around a corner and caught a man in a dark uniform off-guard, whipping the back of her fist across his face, smirking as his head smacked the wall hard and he hit the floor with a heavy thud. But she could hear footsteps approaching. Maybe it was just her own heartbeat throbbing in her ears. She ducked into a large room with many long tables set up in it, some kind of mess hall perhaps. Natasha ducked behind a metal counter, leaning her sweaty brow against the cool steel and taking a ragged breath. She had no idea if anyone had seen her come in here and she didn't care. She would fight them off till her body shut down entirely.

"In here! Look you can see the blood on the floor!" A man shouted.

"What should we do? We can't shoot her – right?" Another man asked uneasily.

"She's a threat; did you see Evans out in the hallway? We need to subdue her and get her in a cell." She heard the metallic click of a gun being cocked and the Widow huddled further back against the counter, biting her lip and holding the syringe in front of her.

* * *

Clint was sitting in an exam room on the opposite end of the hall where they had put Natasha. He sat propped up on a metal table while a nurse gently rubbed burn cream onto his shoulder. His side where the bullet grazed him had a small bandage over it already and the archer hissed with pain as the nurse taped gauze over the fried skin of his shoulder.

"Don't be such a baby." the nurse teased, taping down the last corner of the bandage. She smiled to herself, enjoying the view of the shirtless man in front of her.

"Let me boil your skin and see how you handle someone jerking you around." he hissed back. He suddenly heard the sound of the alarm and his face grew concerned as the lights dimmed around them. The blonde nurse looked frightened as their eyes met and Clint jumped off the table.

"What are you doing?! You're supposed to stay put." the nurse explained, grabbing hold of his wrist.

"You really think you can keep me here?" he raised an eyebrow at her, tugging his hand away from her easily. He pushed through the door and looked down both ends of the hall seeing men running towards the mess hall and nurses frantically trying to figure out what had just happened.

Clint sprinted down the corridor in nothing but his hospital pants, towards the mess hall where all the ruckus was. He stepped over an inert man, bloodied and bruised, his body slumped up against the wall. The marksman's first thought was Natasha. Only she'd be capable of causing such a commotion.

He pushed open the doors of the mess hall seeing two men with guns drawn, aiming at Natasha who was frantically swinging what looked like an empty syringe at both of them and cursing in Russian. His body tensed with anger at the threat to his partner, he didn't care if any of these people were trying to help, he'd kill them all before he'd let them touch Natasha. She was fragile and they didn't understand that the darkness of her past still haunted her.

"Hey! Drop 'em!" he yelled at both men, stepping towards them. One guard turned to face the sound of Clint's voice and aimed his gun at him, telling him to back off and that this didn't concern him.

The agent calmly moved forward still, knowing full well that the guard wouldn't shoot him. He didn't have the guts. Clint grabbed the man's wrist, knocking the weapon free from his hand and catching it in his own. The archer hit the man with the butt of the gun, causing him to stumble to the side. Clint raised the gun, aiming it towards the other man, "Stand down or I'll shove that Glock so far up your ass, it'll come out the other end!" he yelled at him, his face deadly serious as he crept closer to the red head.

The other man covering the redhead winced at the dangerous glint in his superior's gray eyes and he immediately complied, setting his gun down on one of the mess tables.

"She- she assaulted a nurse and an agent. Watch yourself Barton, she's wild." He stammered, taking an involuntary step back at the furious glare the marksman shot at him. "I'll um, I'll go get them to turn off the alarm if you think you can get her back to medical. Uh, sir." He said with more respect.

Clint glared at the younger agent before him, "Yea you do that, kid." he stated flatly, lowering his gun as the man walked away. He turned to Natasha, cautiously moving closer to her.


	3. Chapter 3

**hello my sweet buns! thank you very much for the favorites and reviews so far, hope you continue to enjoy with part 3! :D**

Natasha could hardly see straight.

The combination of pain and that damn alarm ringing in her ears was forcing dark memories to the surface of her mind. She had started her life as the Black Widow pinned down in a hospital like this… cornered, tortured, alone. She supposed it was the end she deserved after everything she had done.

A shadowy figure approached her, the first thing she registered was the gun in his hand and even if it wasn't aimed at her it soon would be. She assumed the man wanted the satisfaction of executing her at an intimate distance. He slowly knelt before her, saying something she couldn't understand through her panic and anger. But his quiet, deep voice made her heart beat a little slower somehow. He leaned closer and Natasha lashed out at him like a cornered animal with her one pitiful stolen claw, brandishing the syringe and cursing at him, but it was a half-hearted attempt at best.

She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her swimming vision. The man was almost upon her now, she couldn't tell if he still had the gun or not. Finally her adrenaline ran out and she was left with only her sorrow and pain. "Just finish it, will you?" She rasped, shrinking back from him involuntarily when he reached out to her, both his hands empty and open. Her body was shaking from the stress of her injuries and sadness. "Please…" She mewled, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. She wasn't sure what it was she was pleading for; mercy, a quick end, some way to go back in time and keep the one person she owed the only good parts of herself to from being utterly destroyed.

The archer knelt down beside her, "Natasha? I'm not gonna hurt you…" he spoke to her softly, placing the gun on the ground next to him. The redhead swung at him with the bloody syringe but that didn't keep him at bay. "Hey… Whoa, whoa. It's alright." He had to get her back to her room before she hurt herself worse and if that meant being jabbed with a needle a few times, so be it.

She begged him to get it all over with and sadness washed over his face, she was still so out of it she didn't realize it was him. "It's alright, Nat. It's me, Barton… its Clint ok?" he told her, easing his way closer to her. "We're in a SHIELD facility. You're safe… But you're hurt pretty bad." he explained, looking down at her bullet wound and then back at her face, her eyes full of tears.

His face finally came into focus, his calm, deep voice piercing the fog of pain and fear clouding her mind. Natasha held her breath as she struggled to digest the fact that her partner was alive when according to what she had seen he should be so much ash floating on the wind. Safe? Where was safe for her anymore?

She blinked at him rapidly and she repeated his name back to him, finally realizing it was only her partner there. He grinned warmly at her and nodded his head, "You gotta let me take you back to your room so you can get fixed up." he said slowly, hoping that she'd accept his help.

"Clint…" She murmured, her voice wispy from emotion and fatigue. The marksman gently extracted the syringe from her trembling hand that she couldn't seem to unclench on her own. He set the cylinder on the floor and smiled at her, the gentleness in his face was like a soothing balm to her raw and broken spirit.

Clint lifted Natasha in his arms, completely numb to his wounds as he carried her; she was his only thought, his only concern at the moment. He'd have time to hurt later. He saw her head fall to the side, looking over his bandaged shoulder with concern.

She had nothing left, not even the strength to grip him properly and help him support her weight, though he seemed to hardly notice the burden despite his injuries that she could now see marked out with white bandages all over his broad shoulders and down his side. There were a hundred things Natasha wanted to say to him as he carried her back down the hallway, but they clotted in her throat. She hoped Clint knew somehow that she was grateful he was alive – more grateful than she'd ever been in her whole life for anything. She hid her face against his bare chest, weeping silently. Safe… This was her safe place. _He_ was her safe place.

She buried her face in his chest and Clint's heart clenched, a little surprised by the redhead's willingness to let her barriers down within the circle of his arms. He knew without her having to say a word, that she cared and worried about him too.

Clint's face was serious again as he held his partner in his arms, taking her back into her exam room. He looked around at the small group of people before him, his body tensing slightly, preparing himself for the argument he might have to make for his partner's actions.

The ranking physician at the base was waiting in the exam room with a nurse, two orderlies and three armed guards. The doctor peered over his glasses at the sight of one of SHIELD's finest cradling his little foundling Russian bird in his arms and grinned, shaking his head. If Natasha Romanov could wreak this kind of havoc in her current condition, he was certain she was soon going to be one of the organization's elites as well. Assuming she survived that long anyway. "Set her here please. I've got to check her wound and see if she's undone all my good work in surgery." The man prompted agent Barton to lay the woman on the hospital bed.

Natasha tensed up in his arms and Clint sensed her hesitation as her bright watery blue eyes met his own silver ones. "They're going to get you fixed up. Make sure you didn't hurt yourself more." he explained, letting her know she had to trust them, just enough to let them heal her. "I'm not going anywhere." he said quietly, his gaze soft and a faint comforting smile coming to the corners of his mouth. And he meant that. She was stuck with him for good, whether she liked it or not; they were a team.

The doctor looked sideways at the armed men who had been ordered here to guard the spy by the head of security. "I don't think she's capable of pulling any more stunts today gentlemen. Why don't you keep watch out in the hall and I'll call you if you're needed." The doctor nodded at the door pointedly as he spoke. The soldiers exchanged a weighted glance, appraising agent Barton and the woman in his arms. Finally they nodded and filed out into the hall to stand guard so they weren't technically disobeying their superior's orders.

Clint nodded his head as the men who'd been sent to stand guard and watch over Natasha, making sure she didn't escape again, exited. He was thankful that the doctor dismissed them, not enjoying the audience or the obvious distress their presence was causing his partner.

Natasha kept her eyes trained on her partner's face, his assurance that he would stay with her filled her with peace and finally eased the tension that had been twisting her gut up in knots. If she hadn't been so relieved that he was alive she would have berated herself for being so childish. Hadn't the thought that Clint was dead nearly unraveled her moments ago? And yet here she was, diving right back into the deep end putting her trust in him, allowing herself to be comforted by his presence in her sickroom.

Clint smiled as Natasha reached up from her bed for his hand and he was surprised by the tightness in his chest at the contact of their fingers. She squeezed his hand gently, smiling slightly up at the archer and shaking her head as she spoke. "Your bandage is bled through, Barton… You need to get checked out." she said quietly, nodding at the gauze on his side that had a crimson bloom seeping through it. It cost her everything to slip her mask back on, speak those words when all she wanted was for him to stay with her, to keep holding her icy fingers in his warm hand. But she couldn't ask that of him. He had already done enough for her for one day, and his wound had only opened because he had carried her back in here. The redhead winced as the physician started checking her gunshot wound and the nurse started a new IV in her arm. She made a mental note to feel bad about what she had done to that other nurse when she had just been trying to give her medicine; right now she was too tired and sore.

Clint glanced down at the bandage on his side, noticing that he was bleeding again. He didn't care though, it didn't hurt all that much and there wasn't enough blood to make him feel the need to leave her bed side.

Natasha tensed and Clint could tell she was desperately trying not to cry out in pain as the doctor began mending the stitches she'd torn out. "I'm all right, you can go…" She slurred, but still he didn't move from her side. Her blurry gaze remained locked on his till the pain medication the nurse gave her finally won out and wrapped her up in a blanket of blissful numbness. She fell into a deep sleep, utterly exhausted but comforted by the solid feeling of the archer's large hand wrapped around hers.

He never left, keeping hold on her hand and only allowing himself to break away from her grip long enough to let a nurse re-bandage his side, tug on a shirt and pull a chair up next to her bed. He propped his legs on the chair across from him, his eyes growing heavy.


	4. Chapter 4

**hello my lovelies! thank you so much for the favorites and positive, thoughtful reviews! *happy wiggle* please enjoy part 4!**

Natasha woke from a sound, dreamless sleep several hours later.

She felt considerably more human, though she still felt her pulse throbbing in the wound in her side. She cracked her eyes open, finding she was still in the darkened medical room. The redhead sighed, wondering what kind of repercussions would arise from her panicked assault on the base personnel. She had managed to build up some credibility in the few months she'd been with SHIELD, and the thought of all that work being undone was disheartening.

She suddenly picked up on the sound of heavy breathing beside her and turned her head, smiling softly at what she found. Her partner was propped over two chairs, his head tipped back and his mouth slightly open as he slept. Natasha felt bolstered by his presence; just knowing that he had been watching over her while she slept was comforting.

Clint had managed to get a few hours of sleep in his makeshift bunk next to Natasha. As if he could feel her gaze on him, the archer stirred and yawned. He woke slowly, stretching his muscles as much as he could as he gingerly placed his feet on the hospital floor. He noticed she was up and a grin spread over his face. Natasha felt warmth flood her veins when he smiled at her, damn him. Clint was dangerous, what he made her feel was dangerous. He licked his lips, "Well good mornin'." he greeted his now awakened partner with a smile.

"I don't know how you manage to fall asleep in those positions, Barton." She said teasingly, wincing as she tugged herself up into a sitting position. Her feelings for Clint had been getting harder to write off as mere attraction of late, but she hadn't realized until last night how deep this man had gotten his hooks in her. When the bomb had gone off in the warehouse and she thought her partner dead, it had been the most horrendous pain she had ever experienced, and that was saying something. It terrified her how much she needed him in her life, how much a part of her he had become.

It was a foolish, dangerous need to harbor, and one she refused to examine more closely for fear of what she might be forced to admit. Natasha wanted Clint as her partner, they made an excellent team and there was no one else she trusted to watch her back. But anything beyond that was just asking for trouble.

As Clint looked over Natasha, his heartbeat quickened. "Oh it's not so hard," he groaned a little, resting his elbows on his knees. "When you're tired you're tired… Gotta work with what you've got, right?" Clint responded, grinning again; he'd slept in a tree or two, passed out on plenty of concrete floors and bunked in beat to shit cots when it was his only option, still managing to sleep. Maybe not comfortably but he slept none the less.

Natasha hated hospitals; she wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. Her plan had been to get out of the bed, but her vision swam when she moved and she fell back heavily on her elbow on the mattress. In the blink of an eye Clint was at her side, his hands gentle but firm on her shoulders as he helped her lie back down.

"Take it easy." The marksman urged, his voice quiet but firm. His brow furrowed as he looked down at his partner; It distressed him to see her lying there injured and in pain. He didn't know why the little redhead affected him so much. Well. He knew why, but it pained him to acknowledge that there was something about her, something about having her by his side that had changed him. Seeing her smile, that smile she so rarely let anyone else see, meant everything to him. It was like her smile was reserved just for him or something, and he didn't like not seeing it.

He shook his head slightly, realizing he still had his hands on her and was staring at her; he quickly snapped himself out of it. Natasha was his partner. Nothing else, there could never be anything else. Clint frowned as he took a step back from her bed, pulling his hands away, he forced a crooked smile. "You're gonna be difficult, aren't you?" he chuckled.

Natasha grinned up at him as he stood back from the bed, sighing again. "I'm not the one who's difficult to deal with; it's these damn doctors that insist on coddling their patients long after they require their care." The spy rolled her eyes. She still wasn't used to the extensive medical care SHIELD provided its agents, before Clint brought her in she'd mostly had to patch her own wounds. Bed rest was a luxury the Black Widow could seldom afford.

Clint chuckled, covering his mouth and shaking his head at her response. He didn't think anyone was as stubborn as he was about having someone take care of him. He didn't like feeling like he needed people and given Natasha's background, she was used to having to be strong and care for herself as well. The archer had grown at least a little more used to having SHIELD check and double check everything until he healed.

The humor in Natasha's eyes was replaced with seriousness as she forced herself to ask the question nagging at her mind. "Clint… why did you shoot Marek? I told you it might get ugly; you said you could handle that. We had a plan and you didn't stick to it." Raw emotion flashed across his silver eyes that he quickly pushed down, but she hadn't missed it. The spy smiled softly. "I trust you. And I need to know that _you_ trust _me_ in order for this partnership to work." She stated simply. She wasn't trying to berate him, but Natasha couldn't stand the thought of losing him again.

His face changed, showing his nervousness and frustration as he thought of Marek. The archer forced away any emotions he felt, looking down at the floor when she mentioned trusting him. She was right, he had to show he trusted her too. "I can't say that I know for sure, Nat…" he shook his head and shrugged his good shoulder, looking up to meet her gaze. "I knew the plan and I had every intention of sticking to it but… The way he was talking to you…" he thought about over hearing him call her a whore and he fidgeted with his hands.

"Then he went after you and… Well you're my partner. I care about you…" he half whispered the part about caring for her, afraid it'd creep her out. "…and I'm supposed to have your back. Plus, maybe I just wanted the satisfaction of killing the bastard myself." he suggested with a grin, but he knew that wasn't it, not completely. Hearing that he'd been one of her clients and knowing the man was a part of Natasha's dark past, it was more than satisfying seeing Marek's bloody body hit the ground.

"I know what I did was stupid and reckless. It could've got us both killed… Sorry I put us both in more danger." he murmured softly.

Natasha searched her partner's face, the way he was avoiding her gaze and shifting his weight from one leg to the other ever so slightly told her he had been more affected by watching her get threatened than he was letting on. It was a strange feeling, knowing there was someone who truly cared whether she lived or died. Stranger still to look at the man standing over her and realize she felt the same way about him. Was this what it felt like then; to let someone in, to have a connection with someone? This warmth in her veins and pressure on her heart that was equal parts yearning and fear… It wasn't something she'd ever experienced before, at least not this strongly.

Clint could tell in his own voice that he wasn't doing the greatest job of hiding his affection for Natasha. His stance and expression likely gave it away before he even opened his stupid mouth. Still, his partner didn't say anything about it; maybe she couldn't tell or simply didn't care, not wanting to bring up the subject for fear of what she might hear.

"It's all right, you don't have to apologize. I just wanted to make sure we're on the same page, so that next time…" Natasha looked around her hospital room with a wry grin, "Well, so that next time I don't accidentally assault a nurse." She chuckled lightly.

The archer didn't know if he was thankful or saddened by the fact that they didn't discuss it further. He chuckled deeply at her comment, "Yea I'd imagine they only let that slide once." he laughed again, meeting her soft blue gaze, "I don't think they much appreciated me threatening to shove inanimate objects up other agents body parts though either. Think we both might be in a bit of trouble for our actions… Don't worry, I think we're on the same page." he assured her, that page being clearly stamped 'Partners' he thought to himself, knowing that's not exactly what she had meant.

Natasha quirked her eyebrow at the archer, she hadn't heard the threat he had made in the mess hall being too caught up in her own pain and fear at the time. It amused her greatly to picture it though. "Why do I get the feeling we are going to make Fury constantly weigh our value to him as agents against the trouble we cause him?" She laughed softly, picturing the director's face when he read the report of last night's incident.

Clint turned and sat on the end of her bed, his shoulders shaking with mirth as he chuckled at her comment. "I certainly think we'll keep him on his toes." he sighed, letting his hands fall and gently grip the edge of the mattress.

She cocked her head at him, looking him up and down. "Thank you, Clint, for staying with me." She murmured. Natasha hadn't really meant to say the words out loud, but she didn't regret it after voicing them. There was a lot more she might have said, but then again they didn't need many words to understand each other.

Clint looked over at his partner as she thanked him, "Nat… You don't have to-" he cut himself off, "I wanted to, I put you in far more danger than that psychopath Marek… I needed to make sure you were alright." he smiled sweetly, resting his hand on hers and trying hard to ignore the voice telling him to lean in and take a chance as she kept her eyes trained on his. He broke their gaze and moved his hand away from hers, turning his attention to look out into the hall.


	5. Chapter 5

**hello my sweet buns! thank you so much for the reviews/favorites/follows on our story! hope you enjoy the next installment! :D**

Nearly a month later and within the first 24 hours of Natasha being cleared for active duty, she and Clint were called in on assignment.

The ongoing conflict in Abidjan was a chaotic bloody mess with no end in sight, and the Security Council ordered SHIELD to unobtrusively step in and see if they couldn't turn the tide. The squads dispatched there were in desperate need of strong experienced leaders to spearhead the counter offensive. The Black Widow and the Hawk fit the bill.

When they first landed Clint and Natasha exchanged a heavy glance, things were pretty bad out there and they both knew it before even having to see the battlefield outside. Instantly they went into work mode and the archer began instructing other agents, telling them how to rework their strategy to move the enemy back. The most important thing was getting the refugees to a more secure location.

Natasha busied herself slipping around and through the line of fire, disabling explosives and taking out communication lines in the torn up abandoned buildings in the area. She kept in contact with her partner the whole time as he directed his team and picked off enemies with his superior sniping skills. The group was thinning out and Clint was confident that his men could finish the job themselves as he ran back to his previous position, killing off any stragglers within the city. Confused without their radio chatter and unable to replace their numbers as quickly as they were being taken out, the enemy began to retreat and Clint and Nat's strike force started making headway.

"Agent Romanov, they've closed down the street two blocks east of your location. There's a group of civilians holed up in the factory in the yellow zone. We need reinforcements to get the street clear so they can make a run for the secure area." An agent's voice came over Natasha's com and she quickly acknowledged it, clicking over to the channel she shared with Clint.

"Hawkeye, things are good here for now. We need to get to the east block of the yellow zone and help Simmons." She told him, looking over a broken section of wall and seeing her partner busily shooting down enemies from behind a concrete barricade down the road. She made her way to him, firing her guns as she went.

Clint heard his partner's voice come over his com as he worked, "Sure thing. Let's get this done." he replied, peeking around the wall and spotted Natasha, making her way towards him. He smirked at her; there was something about being on the job with her again that excited him. The archer kept his eye on her, raising his bow and quickly shooting down one man who'd been hot on her heels. "Took you long enough." he teased her.

Natasha shot him a cheeky grin as she took her place beside him, emptying a clip and discarding it, efficiently reloading her weapons and doing a cursory glance of the area. She caught her partner's gaze and tossed her head at the alley to their left. "Let's head down that way, we can cut through what's left of the old Mosque and come right out where Simmons group is holding their position." She suggested, firing off a few more rounds as she spoke.

The pair slowly worked their way over to the narrow passage, covering each other without having to think twice about coordinating their movements. As soon as they reached the relative safety of the alley between the buildings they broke out into a run, quickly reaching the ravaged mosque. The building beside it was taking fire, putting pressure on the SHIELD group on the other side of the block. It wouldn't be long before the mosque itself would be fired on if they didn't help turn the tide.

Clint followed closely behind Natasha, tossing his bow over his back, his arrows running low as he replaced his weapon of choice with the glock strapped to his thigh. He had covered his partner the entire run to the alleyway. The archer hadn't picked up anyone tailing them but he couldn't shake the sense that something was coming. It put him on edge.

Natasha darted inside the mosque with weapons ready and sprinted down an ornately decorated hallway, Clint right on her heels. Suddenly the earth rumbled beneath their feet and Natasha whipped her head around just in time to see the wall erupting inwards on them. She grabbed Clint's flak vest and threw herself backwards into an open doorway, yanking him along with her just out of the way of an avalanche of debris from the explosion. The room turned out to be a tiny closet of some kind and her back slammed against the opposite wall, knocking the breath from her lungs. Clint surged up against her in the wake of the blast wave, and the wall heaved and toppled down on them.

It was only by the grace of the God Natasha had forsaken long ago or sheer dumb luck that the building didn't collapse completely. The wall and several support beams from the ceiling had caved in but stopped just short of crushing the agents to death. The dust settled and Natasha found her breath again, panicking for an instant because she couldn't move. She and Clint were wedged so tightly together in the crevice under the debris that she was unable to turn or even move her arms that were pinned to her sides.

Clint was pressed up hard against Natasha's small frame, a sharp cough escaping from his lips as he inhaled a cloud of dust. The air cleared and he realized his arms were pressed up against the wall behind his partner, his body hunched slightly as though on instinct he'd used his body as a makeshift shield.

Their faces were so close Natasha could see the dust particles sticking to the archer's sweaty neck and the scruff on his jaw. She met his silver eyes and managed to cough, "Are you all right?"

Clint raised his head looking into Natasha's eyes, his breath hot against her face; their bodies tight against each other, not that he wasn't enjoying the contact of her warm presence against him. "Yeah. Fine…" he breathed, keeping his voice low as though if he spoke too loud it might shift the few pieces holding up the rubble above them. He tried in vain to shift his weight and pull back away from her, but there was no clearance with the large support beam right up against his back.

"You?" he barely managed to say through a hacking breath, trying to keep his focus on Natasha's face and not the incredible closeness of both their bodies. His eyes darted back and forth between hers and he swallowed hard, fighting that same urge he'd felt after their last mission together.

Natasha felt her gut unclench a little when her partner told her he was unhurt. She tested each muscle group, the best she could manage was to wriggle her legs a little and turn her head. She was well and truly stuck. The spy gingerly maneuvered her head to look over both of Clint's shoulders, her nose brushing his chin and jaw as she appraised their situation. It didn't look like there was an opening big enough to fit through assuming they actually could move.

"I'm okay…" She responded breathlessly, becoming acutely aware of every inch of contact their bodies shared. Clint's hard, muscled frame was aligned seamlessly with her own, his chest pressing against hers with every breath he took. He was staring down at her, and though his face was grim and deadly serious the heat coming off his silver gaze made her heart race and warmth pool in her lower abdomen.

An explosion rattled their bones and the walls around them, but Natasha hardly noticed it. She was trapped in Clint's bottomless, hungry gaze and every fiber in her body was screaming _want_. "We should try to radio for help." The redhead murmured, trying to bring her focus back to the very real danger they were in. Then again, if they were about to die anyway…

Clint's gaze remained on Natasha, waiting for her response which he barely heard through his own desire making his pulse pound in his ears. She moved to look around his shoulders as best she could, their weight shifting together as she rolled herself slightly to the side. He had to take a deep breath to calm himself as she looked back up at him. "Probably…" he responded huskily.

He felt her breath against his lips as she craned her neck up, his own head angling down in an attempt to finally capture her plump red lips. He growled her name lightly, their lips only a whisper apart from each other.


	6. Chapter 6

**good evening my sweet buns! thank you for all the reviews and follows! hope you enjoy the next installment of our rp! :D**

In the same heartbeat another blast rocked the building.

One corner of their precarious prison blew out and the whole mess of rubble shook violently above them. The assassins jolted from the impact, a Russian curse escaping Natasha's lips as debris flew up and struck her leg. She angled her head to look down at the opening. It seemed fate was just as willing to give as take away today.

When the blast hit the archer had instinctively used his larger frame to shelter his partner, pressing their bodies close to the steadiest wall, ducking his head down and somewhat covering Natasha's own skull. He heard her curse and felt her body tensing as she winced. They both looked down and spotted the small opening._Great timing. Couldn't give me a few more seconds. _Clint thought sardonically.

The redhead glanced back up at Clint, forcing herself to refocus on the mission. "I think I can get out, then you should have room to follow." She panted, pushing her hips forward into his to give herself enough space to twist her lower half sideways as much as possible. The redhead gasped a little at the contact; she hoped her partner would attribute it to the strain of trying to move and not the fact that it felt amazing even with layers of clothing and gear between them.

Clint nodded his head agreeing that it'd be easier if she slid out first, allowing him more space to move freely and work his way out behind her. She started slowly sliding down his body and he clenched his fists above his head against the wall.

Natasha's curvaceous figure rubbed against his front and his breathing became uneven as he looked down at her, a soft gasp falling from her lips as she moved against him. Every fiber of his being wanted her but his mind was yelling at him to stay in control. She managed to make her way between his feet, having to climb under him to get through the opening. Their eyes met again and he could only hope that she couldn't hear his erratic breathing and his heart beating against his chest.

Natasha tried to ignore the desire that the adrenaline and their closeness had welled up inside her, looking up at him and realizing that was a mistake. The raw desire in his silver eyes was enough to make her slick with need, and it took a considerable amount of will for her to tear her gaze away and put a tight lid on her response to him so she could focus on crawling out of the narrow opening in the wrecked wall.

The spy exited and Clint turned himself around, taking in a few deep breaths to calm himself. It'd been a long time since he'd been that close to a woman and nothing happened. And he'd never wanted someone so much and in the same way as he wanted that little redhead. He desperately tried to regain his focus, letting out a broken breath as he gathered himself.

He pushed his bow through along with his quiver to meet him on the opposite side. He slid down, coaxing his legs through the opening and managing to squeeze his frame through the tiny space he had available, he was much larger than his partner and in all honesty he half expected that he might get himself stuck.

Clint emerged a moment later, having to force his way out of the narrow gash in the cement, his shoulders knocking chunks of the crumbling wall loose. He stood and his partner looked him up and down, nodding at him as they both confirmed the other was undamaged, at least not in any way that couldn't wait till later.

The assassins immediately slipped back into work mode, crossing the street and finding Simmons and his group fighting further down in the ruins of the city. In much the same way that they had reorganized the west quadrant; the agents quickly divided the group in two, Clint took one squad while Natasha took the other. Hours of brutal fighting finally gave them the desired result of pushing back the enemy enough so the refugees trapped in the city block could evacuate to a confirmed safe zone.

Clint led the group of people to a triage area to get food and UN medical treatment, Natasha worked with the new reinforcements that arrived a little after sundown on their strategy for when the lull in the fighting stopped. It could be days, it could be minutes, but at least they had managed to contain the situation and save a lot of people. They would continue fighting here until they could resolve the conflict or were called out elsewhere, but for now both agents had sustained several small injuries and were sent back to the safe house to recover for the next day's battle.

Clint and Natasha had worked long into the night. The image of his partner standing pressed seamlessly against his own frame, her eyes full of what he thought was desire, haunted the back of the archer's mind. Natasha played these games well. He doubted that she'd toy with him in such a way; hoping he wasn't mistaken and it wasn't just that moment that she wanted him simply because he might be the last face she saw.

They made it back separately, but they made a point of finding each other and checking in before heading to their rest. The redhead walked over to her partner, limping slightly but with only a few scrapes and bruises besides her leg. Nothing she hadn't dealt with before. "God I need a shower and a week of sleep after a day like that." Natasha quipped, grinning at her partner. He smiled warmly at her in greeting, chuckling at her comment as his throat ran dry. He shifted his weight to the side a little, trying to convince his mind not to wander to images of Natasha's bare porcelain skin… Dripping with water and covered in delicious smelling suds…

"You check out okay? How's the arm?" she asked him, motioning at the bandage around his upper arm.

Natasha's question pulled him back and he looked down at his arm with confusion. He blinked and tried to think, did he even get checked out? God he couldn't remember with her eyes on him. The bandage wrapped around his bicep reminded him, "Oh… Uh yes I'm good. Checked out fine." he responded with a smile. He shrugged, his injuries hadn't been all that bad, a few bumps and bruises, his upper arm took the worst of the damage. He had been crawling out of the gap in the cement after Natasha, scraping against the jagged concrete as he freed himself, slicing open his arm in the process. He'd patched himself up, the doctors were busy and Clint knew enough about what he was doing that a few stitches was an easy fix. "It's not as bad as it probably looks." he chuckled, "Self sewing job… How are you? Did you get cleared yet?"

Natasha made a tsking sound and grinned as she examined his bandage more closely. "Yes I'm fine, nothing a stiff drink and sleep won't cure. I guess I'll just have to settle for the latter," she said with a wry chuckle. The redhead stepped closer and unwound the gauze he'd unevenly patched his arm with, double checking his stitches before re-wrapping it more securely. The spy avoided meeting the archer's gaze that she could feel burning into the top of her head as she worked, afraid of what might be exposed in her eyes if she did.

Clint chuckled and nodded his head in agreement, "Certainly could go for both." he grinned. He half rolled his eyes when Natasha began checking him over but didn't mind her gentle touch as she unwrapped the gauze around his arm. He didn't normally like having someone take care of him, but with her it was comforting and he liked it.

Being close, touching him and feeling his warm breath on her hair brought Natasha right back to the mosque and the intense feeling of being flush up against her partner and not knowing if their next breath would be their last. If she looked up at Clint now, Natasha was certain she wouldn't be able to stop herself from grabbing his face and forcing him into a deep, desperate kiss. That wouldn't exactly be appropriate in the middle of the triage center.

The archer's eyes scanned over his partner as she rewrapped his bandage a little neater. Just hours ago they'd been trapped in the remains of the mosque, pressed up against each other. He couldn't deny how badly he wanted to be that close to her again, maybe without the dangerous surroundings this time.


	7. Chapter 7

**hello my lovelies! hope you enjoy the next installment, in which the story finally earns its M rating, if you know what i mean ;)**

The redhead cleared her throat as she stepped back from him, managing a quick glance at his eyes and a half smile before she had to avert her gaze again.

"Well. Get some rest, we've got to meet with the other squad leaders tomorrow and see what progress we've made." She commented, resisting the urge to grab his hand and drag him back to her bunk with her. She couldn't just risk the most valuable thing she had, their friendship, by acting on her pent up desires… could she?

He smiled crookedly back at her, "Yea, You too. I'll see you early tomorrow. Good night, Nat." he responded as she slipped away heading back to her quarters.

Natasha quickly retreated to her room. It wasn't in the best state of repair or the cleanest, but she'd bedded down in much worse places. The water pressure was pitiful and the water was lukewarm but she decided that was for the best, since she couldn't get Clint out of her mind no matter how hard she tried and it was making her burn from the inside out.

The more she ran those moments in the mosque through her mind, the more she became convinced. Clint was her partner, her best friend, but she couldn't keep denying there was a lot more between them. Recalling the heat in his eyes made her quiver with need for him. She had almost lost him again today, and the spy was certain the universe wasn't going to give her any more second chances. Finally Natasha made up her mind and turned off the water. She toweled off and pulled on a pair of soft black yoga pants and a black tank top then slipped silently to her partner's quarters, her fiery curls damp and her feet bare in her rush to get to him.

The archer had made it back to his room, lost in thought as he rinsed the grit and grime of the day away. He stood there for a long while letting the water stream over his face. He couldn't get Natasha out of his head no matter what he did or how hard he tried to think about other things. He could have sworn he saw her hesitate to leave him tonight, like she had something more she wanted to say to him or something else she wanted from him. Earlier that day… Could he blame it all on the rush, the thought that they might not make it out? She seemed like she wanted to kiss him too. He climbed out of the shower, taking the opportunity to shave his scruff and brush his teeth hoping he could shut his mind off enough to let himself sleep.

He had no such luck. Clint was pacing in his quarters in a black tee and dark grey sweats. There was no way he'd be able to get any sleep until he knew what was going on between them. He was so conflicted, telling himself over and over that Natasha was his partner and he couldn't allow himself to get attached, the problem being he already was. He wanted her… Damn he wanted her.

Natasha knocked lightly at Clint's door and let herself in without waiting for him to answer, afraid that she would talk herself out of this if she hesitated for even an instant. She shut the door behind her and strode into the center of his room, every muscle taut and every nerve ablaze.

"Nat?" Clint questioned her, confused. Why would she come to see him so late? She didn't turn to face him when he spoke, her chin tipped downwards and her gaze trained on the floor. He looked her over, dressed in a form fitting tank and yoga pants, revealing every curve of her body and making the archer struggle to regain himself enough to speak again. "What are you doing? Is everything alright?"

"We need to talk about what happened this afternoon. About what _almost_happened." She said in a low voice. The archer approached her, gently gripping her arm and starting to apologize. She whipped around and pressed her fingertips to his lips, silencing him. "Don't." She said softly but adamantly. The redhead stepped into his space, her chest pressing against his and echoes of the sensations from earlier in the day made her heart pound. Her hand swept from Clint's mouth along his strong jaw and up into his sandy hair, gripping it gently.

Her blue gaze flickered between his silver eyes and she thought she ought to say something to him; how she had felt when they were trapped, what he meant to her. But instead she simply stood on her toes and sealed her lips to his in a deep, searing kiss. Natasha angled her head, slanting her mouth over his for better access and tasting him hungrily until he finally recovered from his shock over her actions to kiss her back.

The redhead moaned in her throat as Clint's tongue slid against hers, desire surging through her body as his arms wrapped around her and crushed her to his muscled frame. She didn't even realize they were moving until he drove her back against the wall, one hand sweeping down to grip her thigh and drag her leg up to wrap around his hip. Natasha gripped on to him and ground her center against the straining bulge in his sweatpants, her nails biting into his shoulders as their tongues battled for dominance.

The archer bit her lip, grunting into her mouth as he felt her grinding herself against his arousal. God he wanted her. More than anything he wanted her. He tried to tell himself to stop, to break away before things went too far. But the taste of her lips and the feeling of her body aligned with his made it impossible to tell her no—to tell himself no.

Natasha gasped when Clint's mouth left hers to bite and suck at her neck, he felt even better than she'd imagined he would. He practically tore off her tank and little thrills coursed up and down her body as his tongue traced the edge of her bra, dipping into her cleavage and nipping her fullness. He glanced up at her, silently asking permission to see more.

She flushed at his gaze. Natasha had never been with a man that could make her heart race with only a look. Without hesitation she pulled off the last remaining fabric covering her top half, he took in the sight of her and she smiled at him devilishly as she began coaxing his head down to her chest, moaning when his mouth latched on to the stiffened rosy peak of her breast, his callused fingers teasing and tweaking its twin. "God Clint…" she moaned brokenly, her body burning up from the inside out with her need for him. The spy twisted her fingers into his hair and tugged his face back up to hers, "Take me to that bed—now," she demanded, eyes darting to the thin mattress over the archer's shoulder; kissing him deeply and nipping at his lower lip to emphasize her need.

Clint quirked an eyebrow at her demanding tones as she pulled his head away from her chest. He wasn't at all sorry that she broke their contact only to ask for more from him. He hooked his hand around the backside of her other leg and lifted her up into his arms, kissing her ravenously.

Natasha automatically wrapped her legs around his waist as he picked her up and carried her to the bed. It was not the most luxurious of settings certainly, but she didn't give any kind of damn. She needed more of him, never mind anything else. Never mind the threadbare sheets, the musty smell of the decaying building or the sound of explosions in the distance. All that mattered to her was getting as close to her partner as possible.

The archer placed her on the bed, their lips meeting again briefly as he worked his way down to her chest once more. He fondled her breasts, kissing every inch of her body hungrily as he made his way downward. He mouthed her through the fabric of her pants, making her writhe and pant with need, running his hands up and down her toned thighs. He grabbed hold of the thin fabric of her pants and her now soaked panties, pulling them off her hips in one smooth motion.

Natasha bit her lower lip in anticipation as Clint stripped her bare. Somehow she had known, even before she'd started seriously fantasizing about being with her partner, that the marksman was the kind of man who would put his lover first.

His breath was ragged as he admired her naked body, his heated gaze flashed from the slickness between her thighs then up to Natasha's face and back. Clint leaned in, lapping up her juices and teasing her clit with his tongue. He greedily devoured her, thrusting his tongue into her center before replacing it with two knobby fingers to stroke her walls while his dexterous tongue put her clit through the most delicious torture she'd ever received.

He pressed his fingers deeper into her core, bringing her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion. "Oh God Clint… Fuck, yes just like that… Clint!" Natasha cried out, her hips bucking up to his face as she came around his hand. She panted desperately for breath as he drew out her orgasm with the swirling motion of his tongue, her muscles shuddering and going slack she came down from her high. Clint withdrew his fingers shining with her slickness and smirked down at her, sucking off his knobby digits.

Natasha sat up and kissed him deeply, enjoying that she could taste herself on him. Her hand snaked down between their bodies and she slipped under his sweats and briefs, wrapping her fingers around his long, thick length and purring with satisfaction at how big he was. Her thumb stroked his weeping tip and he growled low in his throat. "You have far too many clothes on, Barton." She chided him in a breathless voice, pushing at the hem of his sweats with her free hand encouraging him to shed his troublesome garments.


	8. Chapter 8

**hello my sweeties! hope you enjoy part 8 of our collab fic! :D**

He growled in his throat and grinned at her words as she tugged at his sweats with her free hand.

He pulled away from her, tugging his shirt over his head and freeing himself of his remaining clothing.

Natasha admired her partner's chiseled frame from head to toe. She had seen Clint in varying states of undress many times, but seeing him now hot and hard and hungry for her was the most incredible thing she'd ever laid her eyes on. "Better?" he asked, a small laugh escaping his lips as she grabbed his wrist and hooked one leg around his waist, forcing his weight down on top of her again.

He leaned over her and she yanked him down closer. "Yes, much." she replied as she craned her head up to bite and suck at his corded neck. Clint rocked his hips into hers, teasing her clit with his erection and moaning as Natasha's lips found his throat, nibbling at the sensitive spot just beneath his ear. His breath caught and his hands ran down her sides, pulling her legs up higher around his waist. Natasha fell back to the mattress as she watched him with anticipation. Clint met her gaze and joined their bodies, moaning her name as he began to move inside her.

The spy gripped his short sandy hair and tugged his face to meet hers in a wild, biting kiss. He thrust into her harder and she rocked her hips up in time with his rhythm, driving him deeper inside her body. He was almost too much for her to take; stretching her and stroking all the sensitive places inside her making her see stars. He gripped her leg and let his weight fall sideways, she followed his movement and rolled atop him without disconnecting their bodies.

Natasha's blue eyes were almost black with desire as she rode him, loving the way his hands gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks as he fought off his release. She could feel her pleasure threatening to unravel her from within, her full breasts bouncing as she quickened her motions.

Natasha leaned into him, her lips brushing against his jaw and she whispered against his skin, "I want to feel you come inside me Clint…" her words making him shudder under her hands. The redhead gasped and cried out as her orgasm claimed her, her most feminine muscles fluttering and clenching around his hard shaft as he followed her over the edge. They rode out their orgasms together and Natasha dipped forward again, pulling his face up to meet hers in a soft sweet kiss. "Damn…" he panted with a small chuckle. She smiled softly at his exclamation, savoring the feel of him being buried in her body for a moment longer. Finally she rolled off of his body and settled on her side next to him.

The bed was small, so even without trying to she was mostly resting up against him, but she didn't nuzzle into him like she wanted to. Natasha was surprised at her own urge to melt into his warmth, she had never been with a man that she felt any desire to 'cuddle afterwards' with. It was a strange feeling, one she wasn't sure she wanted to nurture. That was something lovers did, something couples did… Natasha couldn't even begin to define what she and Clint were, and she didn't want to.

Clint smiled as Natasha lay down beside him and he rolled over onto his side to meet her gaze. His fingers trailed softly up and down the curve of her side as he looked at her. Natasha pushed down the troublesome thoughts tugging at her mind and simply enjoyed the feel of him touching her and the warmth in his silver gaze.

Despite having just slept together, Clint's heart still pounded in his chest and his stomach churned as she smiled at him. He didn't know what they were now besides partners, but he knew what he wanted. Was it an option though? The archer could sense Natasha's hesitation to get close to him and he could see on her face that she was feeling confused too. "What are you thinking?" he asked her quietly, resting his free hand under his head. He knew to some extent what was running through her head, he knew her well enough to know that she was grappling with some of the same questions and thoughts he was. Them being more than partners, it could work—he hoped to God or whatever there was out there, that it could.

Natasha's insides clenched with apprehension at his question. The archer was looking at her in a way he never had before, his silver eyes full of dangerous unspoken affection. Her heart flipped over, filling with a foolish yearning to hear him put that affection into words for her and her alone. She wanted to cling to him and never let go—which was exactly why she had to push him away.

"I was thinking that you're quite exceptional in more ways than just marksmanship, Barton." She smiled and sat up from the bed, making herself slip her mask back on even though her heart wrenched to do it. The spy reached down and retrieved her pants from the floor, shaking them out and pulling them on.

Clint quirked a brow at her uncertainly and half smiled in response to her answer. They really weren't going to talk about what had just happened and how it changed things between them? Maybe nothing had really changed and he'd just been naive to think that he wasn't just another one of her play things. She acted as if this was just another day, like what they did didn't matter, he didn't matter. He refused to accept that thought. Deep down the archer knew that this was Natasha being Natasha, fighting her feelings, running away from any emotion she felt and clinging to her barriers in a desperate attempt to push him away.

Natasha could feel Clint's eyes tracking her every movement as she got up and fetched her strewn bra and tank top, donning them quickly without meeting his gaze directly again. The air between them was getting heavier every second; it cut her deep knowing how much her making light of what they had just done would hurt him.

She padded to his door, looking back and giving him a small, playful smirk. "It really is too bad we waited so long to get that out of our system, da? We'll have to do it again sometime." She quipped, pulling his door open a crack and checking the hall.

Clint had been with many women, and usually he was the one to gather his things and duck out early, making a lame excuse as to why he had to leave, using the old, 'It was fun… I'll call you sometime' but leaving them hanging. Now he knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end, watching the one you wanted leaving you exposed and alone.

The marksman forced himself to laugh but it was a faint attempt at best, "Uhh—Yea." he managed, nodding his head. At least she was looking at him again. Perhaps for now meaningless sex was all she was capable of, it was probably all she knew how to deal with. He could only hope he could change that in her and show her that they could have a whole lot more if she'd just give it a chance.

The hall was vacant. The redhead opened the door further and added over her shoulder, "Get some rest, our meeting is at 6 am." She slipped out his door and back down the hall to her room, reminding herself that how sick she felt brushing him off was exactly the reason it had to be done.

He nodded his head in response. "Yea 6 o'clock." he repeated as she exited his room, silently closing the door behind her. Clint pulled his sheet up and collapsed back against the tiny mattress, running a hand through his hair and over his clean shaven face with a sigh. Was he being stupid? Had he read too much into everything before and she really didn't have any deeper feelings towards him? Maybe it was all lust and simply physical attraction…


	9. Chapter 9

**hello lovelies! welcome to part 9 of our collab clintasha fic, hope you enjoy! thanks so much for the reviews and favorites so far!**

Clint woke early the next morning for their meeting.

SHIELD had been called in as a method of last resort by the UN and they'd do their very best to clear out the combat zone and save as many civilians as possible. Though it didn't seem they'd be able to complete the job entirely on their own, the government wanted them to step in and attempt to salvage what was left of the area. Technically they weren't there, the UN just wanted them to quietly turn the tide and save as many people as possible.

Natasha and Clint offered their wealth of experience to supplement the tactics devised by the leaders that had been there for a while and knew the territory best. As they worked the redhead kept feeling Clint's eyes on her, she did her best to ignore the weighted glances he directed at her every time their eyes met. He obviously was not satisfied with how they had left things last night and truthfully neither was she, but she pushed down her personal issues and focused on the task at hand.

She didn't need to think about it, it was a matter of adding up the facts. She couldn't give Clint what he needed, what he deserved from a relationship. Natasha knew she was broken beyond repair; it was childish to try and pretend otherwise. So she would content herself with being his partner and his friend, and if they happened to enjoy each other's company in a more intimate way now and again, she certainly wouldn't mind. But that was all. The spy would gladly suffer silently if it meant she could at least have that much. It was more than she had any right to ask for.

Their tour in Abidjan continued and Clint and Natasha avoided direct contact, but of course they ran into each other, exchanging heavy glances and saying little. Even when the spy wasn't around, the archer was distracted by her. He respected the space she had set between them, fighting to adjust and be okay with it but his thoughts were rarely anything involving the job. He knew it was dangerous and now wasn't the time to be concerned about what they were to each other but he couldn't help himself. He knew she was ignoring her affection towards him, pushing him away and pretending there wasn't something there. She had to feel it too; there was no way that his love for her wasn't returned. Wait… Shit. He loved her? He'd never loved someone, never felt like he needed someone in such a way that he needed his partner.

It was a strange thought. Clint had never expected himself to wanted relationship with someone, and yet here he was. He wanted her; more than anything. He was fairly certain she felt the same way, he just had to show her somehow that she was capable of loving someone; that it was safe to let her guard down enough to give them a chance.

* * *

Natasha had been doing some solo recon in the ruins of the city and just managed to escape the full blast of a hidden mine in the wall of an abandoned building. When she limped back to base she heard on her com that several refugees had just been brought in for medical care, so she slipped carefully to her quarters, not wanting to take away from people who really needed the attention of the physicians when she could make do on her own.

The redhead stripped off her catsuit to the waist, wincing as the splinters of wood and metal in her back and shoulder were jarred. She turned to appraise the damage in the cracked mirror, craning her head back as best she could. She cursed under her breath in Russian; she would be able to reach some of the shrapnel but not all of it. Less than a month ago she would have thought nothing of going to her partner; he would've patched her up without her even having to ask.

But now, after the way things had been between them – Natasha shook her head. She was being childish again. She was letting her feelings cloud her judgement. The simple fact was she needed help, and if she couldn't rely on her partner then who could she turn to? Lacking the wherewithal to pull her suit back on, she clicked on the com that was still in her ear. "Barton, are you awake?" She asked quietly, hoping he was but also hoping he wasn't.

It was fairly late when Clint had finally got back to his bunk. He'd spent hours clearing out refugees with a few other agents and then had immediately picked up the slack directing people they had rescued to the physicians for medical attention and protecting the route to the safe house from enemies.

The archer had just started to undress himself, pulling off his flak vest and unbuckling his belt, removing the multiple weapons strapped to his body. Stripping down to the barest bits of his uniform, his skin was damp and itchy with sweat and he desperately wanted a shower. He heard the sound of Natasha's voice come over his com that was still in his ear. His body tensed at the sound, they hadn't really talked much since they slept together. Things were tense between the pair and as much as he hated it he didn't know how to diffuse it. "Yea I'm up. What'd you need?" he asked her in an even tone, surprised at himself for managing a neutral tone of voice when he opened his mouth.

Natasha explained what had happened to her on the field, needing his help despite how much she clearly did not want to ask him. He immediately put aside his apprehensions and told her he'd be right over. No matter what they were still partners and he'd do whatever was needed to keep her safe and whole. He slipped quietly down the hall to his partner's room, knocking lightly and taking a deep breath as he let himself in. He spotted Natasha looking at him through her mirror, looking over the jagged edges of shrapnel sticking out of her shoulder. Clint's eyes widened and his heart beat quickened at the sight of her with her cat suit peeled down to her waist, revealing her lacy edge black bra. He cleared his throat and stepped closer to her, gently prompting her to brace herself against the dresser so he could get a good look at her back and shoulder.

"Jesus, you sure as hell sugar coated it, didn't you? 'A few' pieces of shrapnel stuck in your shoulder?" He repeated her words, shaking his head and furrowing his brow as he appraised the damage. "Nat, your shoulder's covered. Some stuff's pretty deep too. I hate to tell you this but it's not gonna be comfortable while I dig it out." He told her, his eyes wandering from her injuries over her bare creamy chest reflected in the mirror and he quickly averted them elsewhere.

Natasha chuckled at his words. She watched her partner's face in the mirror as his silver eyes looked over her wounds first then slid over her body for an instant before he regained control. She felt her skin prickle with want and her heartbeat quicken just from the feeling of his eyes on her bare flesh, cursing her inability to control her response to his closeness.

"I can take it. I've had worse, after all." Natasha quipped, snapping open the medical kit on the dresser for him so he could get started. Clint knew better than anyone else in the world how true that statement was.

Clint dug through the medical kit and began his work, slowly and efficiently using the tweezers on his partner's skin. The redhead winced, biting her lip to keep from crying out as he worked at a particularly deep splinter of wood just below her shoulder blade. The archer worked as carefully as he could, removing each and every bit of debris then gingerly cleaning each wound. He knelt low, pulling out one of the last pieces in her back, having to pull down the fabric of her catsuit. He daubed at that last wound, pressing his free hand to the bare skin at the base of her spine, gently blowing on the cut.

Natasha was having trouble keeping her breathing even, not from the pain but from something else entirely. She could feel his warmth radiating against her back, his touch, his breath as he gently blew on the last wound he cleaned. He straightened again and set down the tweezers and gauze on the top of the dresser, peering over her shoulder in the mirror, his silver gaze molten with desire.


	10. Chapter 10

**hello my sweet buns! hope you enjoy part 10 of our collab rp! :D**

The archer was just as affected by their closeness as she was.

He scanned Natasha's body again, framing her smaller figure with his larger one and brushing his lips over one of the scratches on her shoulder blade. He whispered her name against her skin, his voice hoarse with want. She didn't move away, didn't resist the sudden contact when he pulled her back against his front and kissed a heated trail from her shoulder up the pale column of her neck. His hand on her lower back slid around to her front and pressed her hips back against his, when she still offered no resistance his mouth wandered up to bite at her earlobe and Natasha mewled desperately at the contact.

Natasha turned in his arms and pressed herself against his muscled frame, gripping his sandy hair with both hands and kissing him ravenously. She wanted him so desperately, needed in him ways she refused to admit to herself and so she simply focused on how good he felt and tasted. Clint tensed, hesitating for a moment as the voice of reason pierced the fog of his desire, telling him they shouldn't do this again. They shouldn't screw with each other's emotions like this… But damn he wanted her. The redhead sensed his reluctance to kiss her back and nipped at his lower lip, refusing to let him think better of his slip of kissing her shoulder a moment ago.

She hooked her hands under the hem of his dark sleeveless shirt and yanked it up as they kissed, letting her nails skid up his hard abs as she removed it. He groaned in his throat, wincing at the sensation of her nails biting at his skin, it was all it took to win him over. She threw his shirt aside and his mouth claimed hers again. The warning voice in his head was silenced for the moment and he matched the passion of her kiss and she unhooked her bra, tugging it off her front without breaking contact with him.

Clint felt her bare chest rub up against his and he tilted his head, leaning down to kiss and bite at her throat. Whatever they had been before and whatever they were to each other now, in this moment they simply needed each other. He justified letting this continue by telling himself maybe this time would be different, maybe she'd stick around afterwards and open up more to him.

Natasha was burning up from within, now that her body knew how much pleasure Clint could give her, her need for him was even more intense than it had been before when she had only imagined what it might be like to be with her partner. She pressed herself up against his frame, relishing the feeling of his heated skin against hers. Her hands slid down between them and she practically tore his pants off, unable to get him undressed fast enough. A deep, primal growl rumbled in Clint's chest as she stroked his length through his briefs, throbbing with want for her now. She trailed her lips along his jaw and down to bite at his corded neck. His skin was hot and salty from the sweat of the day. She didn't mind it, but at the same time the idea of him taking her in the shower… She got wetter just thinking about it. "Come with me," she murmured, taking his hand that was gripping her waist and leading him to her tiny bathroom that was really little more than a tiled closet.

Natasha turned the water on, looking back over her shoulder at him with a playful smile as she wriggled the rest of the way out of her catsuit, taking her panties off along with it. He followed suit with the last of his clothing and was immediately on her again, his erection thick and hard against her abdomen as they backed into the shower. Their lips met as the water streamed over their dust and sweat-covered bodies, rinsing away the day's grit and blood.

As much as Natasha was tempted by the thought of Clint pinning her to the shower wall, she didn't think the wounds on her back would enjoy it as much as the rest of her would. So the spy turned away from the archer, bracing her forearms on the shower wall and grinding her toned ass against Clint's hardness. He immediately took her unspoken invitation and pressed his lower half against her, mindful of her injuries as he placed bites and kisses across her neck and shoulders where her skin was undamaged.

Clint moaned against the back of her neck as he guided her hips back into him, thrusting himself deep inside her core. His mind went completely blank of any thoughts beyond how good it felt being connected with her. He whispered her name with a ragged breath, feeling her clamp around him and draw him further inside her.

Clint started out slow but quickly lost control of his rhythm, slamming into her hard and fast. The tension that had been building between them the past couple weeks had wound both agents so tight that it was impossible to stop or even slow down, at least not in this moment. One of Clint's callused hands swept up her slippery front to fondle her full breasts. He tweaked her hardened nipples, adding to her pleasure making her arch and buck against him.

"Oh God yes… You feel so good…" Natasha panted desperately, the archer's name falling from her lips over and over as she lost herself to the delicious sensations washing over her body. Her walls clenched around his throbbing length as she found her peak, she felt the hot bursts of him coming inside her and it fulfilled her on a level that was deeper than the physical whether she wanted it to or not.

Clint rolled his hips up into her until he was completely spent; leaning heavily over her in the wake of his climax, his breath hot and ragged against her ear. Natasha craned her head back to meet his lips in a tender kiss as he slipped out of her heat. It felt perfect to be with her like this, different than he'd ever felt with anyone and he wanted more. He'd always want more of her.

For a moment Natasha forgot herself and pressed her lips softly to Clint's. It felt like coming home, trembling and panting from her pleasure in her partner's arms, his warmth surrounding her as the water streamed over their bodies. The redhead had to force herself not stand there and keep kissing him out of simple tenderness, breaking their contact and dispelling the sweet moment by grabbing the shampoo so they could both do a little more thorough cleaning before getting out of the shower together.

When Natasha broke their kiss and offered him the bottle of soap the archer felt frustration well up inside him. It seemed she wasn't budging an inch, still unwilling to give him the smallest opportunity to get closer to her, to be sweet to her like he wanted. The second things got outside her comfort zone she pushed him away, not even allowing them a simple loving kiss as they came down from their shared high.

Still the sandy blonde agent kept a small smile on his face as he took the bottle from her, not wanting to show her the affect her dismissal had on him. For now he'd appreciate the great sex for what it was, applying his nearly limitless patience as a sniper waiting for a chance for what they had now to become something more.


End file.
